


With Great Power

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Steter Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Stiles has known what he is since birth (and before, really), though his father doesn't. He thinks his mother suspected, had an idea that her son wasn't really her son. She was perceptive that way, and Stiles wonders if she maybe had a touch of magic. He thinks that's why when her disease seized her, she screamed that he was evil, that he was trying to kill her. That he wasn't really hers. Everyone had chalked it up to the dementia getting worse, but Stiles wonders how much of it was her being unable to contain her suspicions and letting them run wild. Once Claudia dies, Stiles is truly the only one who knows he's other. That is, until Peter.OrSteter Secret Santa 2017!





	With Great Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cywscross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/gifts).



> Steter Secret Santa 2017 is here! This is for the incomparable [cywscross](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross). I hope you enjoy it!

Stiles has known what he is since birth (and before, really), though his father doesn't. He thinks his mother suspected, had an idea that her son wasn't really her son. She was perceptive that way, and Stiles wonders if she maybe had a touch of magic. He thinks that's why when her disease seized her, she screamed that he was evil, that he was trying to kill her. That he wasn't really hers. Everyone had chalked it up to the dementia getting worse, but Stiles wonders how much of it was her being unable to contain her suspicions and letting them run wild. Once Claudia dies, Stiles is truly the only one who knows he's other. That is, until Peter.

Stiles thinks Peter's always suspected that he isn't quite human, but he isn't sure what flavor of creature he is. He's pretty sure that's why Peter offered him the bite back in that parking garage before he died and was reborn. Sure, Peter would have been happy if Stiles had turned and he'd gotten a shiny new beta, but Stiles thinks that Peter wanted to see if it would force Stiles to reveal himself, or if he said yes, what would happen if he were bitten. 

Then Peter dies and Stiles breathes a bit easier. Stiles doesn't begrudge Peter's little murder spree. He gets why he did it and would probably do the same thing in his place, but he made the mistake of dragging Scott into the fray and as dopey as his best friend is, Stiles has a soft spot for him. Also, with Peter gone, whatever suspicions he had about Stiles die with him. He needs his secret to stay hidden, so while Stiles didn't actually dislike Peter, not truly, him being dead definitely benefits him.

That tranquility doesn't last though because soon enough, Peter Hale has risen from the grave. Saner and less outwardly bloodthirsty, but no less interesting.

"You're supposed to be dead," Stiles says. They're in the warehouse after the showdown with Gerard and the kanima, watching while the others try to gather themselves and breathe through the adrenaline and shock.

"It didn't suit me," Peter says. "Though I have the feeling you could make it stick if you actually wanted it to."

He's going to have to be careful around Peter.

Ending Gerard is easy. He's injured and sloppy, and even if he weren't, he's trained to avoid detection by werewolves. That does nothing against something like Stiles. While Derek is hiding from the world, stinging from yet another betrayal and non-consensual use of his body, Scott is pining over Allison, and everyone else is licking their emotional and physical wounds, Stiles heads out into the quiet of the preserve.

The woods and trees call out to him, wrapping around his energy like a warm blanket. Stiles walks deep into the preserve, dragging his hands over the trunks of trees as he passes, stopping to let the deer that are approaching him nudge against his hands. He feels a bit like Snow White or Aurora with a trail of woodland creatures following him through the trees, but they all fall away when he enters to nemeton's clearing, sensing a power older and more dangerous than them.

The nemeton's power thrums through him, recognizing Stiles. He comes out here often, pays tribute to the nemeton. He tends to it, keeps it healthy. He had rid it of the nogitsune that had been poisoning it and in return, the nemeton seems to have attached itself to him, giving him its loyalty.

"Hello," Stiles murmurs in greeting. He circles the trunk, pleased to see the shoots of new growth sprouting from the center. He sits on the trunk, carefully avoiding the saplings, and closes his eyes. The nemeton recognizes the power of a fae, sending a pulse of warmth through him. "I need a favor."

The nemeton remembers Gerard and the atrocities he's committed in its land, and is all too happy to act as a focus and help Stiles locate him. It takes only a few minutes of quiet meditation and reaching out with his amplified power to find Gerard holed up in a cabin deep in the preserve, accompanied by a handful of loyal hunters. Stupid of him. Hunters may operate in the forest, but it's the home of creatures like Stiles, and humans tend to forget that they aren't the top of the food chain. 

Stiles thanks the nemeton for its help and makes his way out of the preserve, a little tired from using so much energy, but also with the pleasant tingling of magic he gets when he spends time in the trees. He could walk to where Gerard is, but he'd prefer to drive closer, giving him time to charge his batteries so to speak. The only reason Stiles had taken Gerard's beating after the lacrosse game is he'd been unwilling to reveal what he is just yet, wanting to keep that card close to his chest until he saw how things played out. Now, that doesn't matter. Gerard is going to die either way. 

There are defenses around the cabin, a variety of traps and mountain ash, but they don't mean anything to Stiles. He decides to have some fun with them before they die, because that's just who he is after all. His illusions have always been his strong suit, and he conjures the sounds of werewolves howling, making it sound like a pack of at least twenty strong is surrounding the cabin. He makes them see things, makes them think their comrades have glowing eyes. Gerard's peons shoot each other dead in fear, convinced their friends are monsters, until it's just Gerard left, clutching his gun, eyes wide and afraid. 

Only then does Stiles enter the cabin. His skin is glowing an ethereal white, his eyes a fiery gold. Gerard tries to shoot at him but the gun's empty, wasted on shooting his hunters. Stiles grins and he knows it's not nice, knows that Peter has a look very similar. 

"Wait, just wait," Gerard says. 

He's hacking up black goo, trying to catch his breath. Stiles doesn't know if he's going to run or try to beg for his life. Part of him wants to see it, wants to see the great Gerard Argent on his knees, begging to not be killed, but more than that, Stiles is just tired. He wants to be home in his bed so he can put this bullshit behind him. 

Stiles strides over until he's standing in front of Gerard. He assesses him coolly for a moment, then reaches out, snapping Gerard's neck. He puts a pulse of power behind it, making sure he won't pull a Peter and be back among them in a few weeks. Unlike hunters, Stiles doesn't need to cut a werewolf in half to make sure they stay dead. 

"Beautiful work," a voice says. A second later, Peter's walking out of the shadowed doorway. "I should have known you'd be one to play with your food." 

Stiles' heart races into overdrive. He hadn't heard or sensed Peter coming, too focused on Gerard. A stupid, rookie mistake. He's better than this. He fights to keep his face calm and meet Peter's steady gaze. 

"I see you had the same idea as I. I admit to being disappointed not to end the miserable old man myself, but watching you was enjoyable consolation," Peter says. Stiles still says nothing. He's sure the curiosity is eating at Peter, and that gives him a sense of satisfaction. "I'll find out what you are whether you tell me or not." 

"You'll try," Stiles says. 

"Oh sweetheart, I do love a challenge," Peter purrs. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Are we done here?" he asks. "I have a hot shower at home with my name all over it." 

"Not worried I'll be telling Scott and his little huntress about what you did here?" Peter asks. 

"No, you're smarter than that. You know you'll never get any information out of me if you go to Scott," Stiles says, then his eyes harden. "And I'm sure you have some idea of what I'll do to you if you try." 

Peter's eyes glimmer hungrily, as if being threatened while surrounded by the bodies of Stiles' victims is the best thing that's happened to him since his resurrection. God, his wires are crossed even more than Stiles'. 

Stiles slowly walks out, edging around Peter at the door to step outside. He doesn't give Peter his back until he absolutely has to. He doesn't really think Peter would hurt him, but his magic is pretty much drained and now would be a hell of a time to be wrong. But Peter just watches, thoughtful and hungry, until Stiles disappears back into the trees. 

Stiles waits anxiously for Peter to drop what he knows onto the pack. Rationally, he knows Peter has too high of a self preservation instinct to risk pissing Stiles off, but that doesn't stop the worry. But weeks go by and Peter says nothing. He'll sometimes look at Stiles for a long time, expression indecipherable, but he doesn't say anything. He can stare all he wants, as long as he keeps his mouth shut. 

Strange deaths start all over town, Erica and Boyd are still missing, and there's a weird magical presence making its way into town. The nemeton hates it, sending angry pulses out that Stiles can feel even from his bedroom. With all the weird animal behavior stuff, bodies dropping everywhere, and the search for Derek's missing betas, Peter and Stiles end up spending a lot of time together. Derek doesn't trust Peter enough to take his help, and Scott thinks Stiles is too weak (Stiles snorts at that) and leaves him behind. It leaves Peter and Stiles alone a lot in Derek's loft because even though Derek and Scott can be irritatingly short-sighted, they don't actually want them dead, and they're willing to hit the books to help. 

It's when they're alone at these research sessions that Peter starts guessing what Stiles is. Sometimes they'll be silent the whole time, sometimes they chat over takeout, and sometimes Peter slips in his questions. 

"Mage?" Peter asks before taking a bite of egg roll. 

"No," Stiles says. "And keep your voice down!" Stiles looks around like another pack member might pop out of nowhere. 

"No one else is here," Peter says. "You're sure?" 

"I'm not a mage," Stiles says. 

Peter hums and goes back to his food. 

"Nymph?" 

Stiles snorts. "No." 

Then his questions get more specific. 

"Does the moon affect you?" Peter asks. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"That's why I'm asking," Peter says.

"Yes and no," Stiles says, just to be a dick.

Peter humphs and pretends he isn't pouting behind the book he's reading. 

Sometimes Peter will ask questions that have nothing to do with trying to figure out what Stiles is at all. He'll ask what his favorite soda is (something that conveniently turns up the next time he's at Derek's loft). He questions Stiles' fashion sense with a disdainful look. He asks Stiles how he enjoys the book he has to read for his English class (Mrs. Edwards has to go on maternity leave soon and is really phoning it in, so they're just reading all day in class). 

And slowly, Peter and Stiles start _talking_. Actually talking, not sniping or digging for more information on the other. Peter gives Stiles tips on his physics homework (he has thousands of years of life experience but math still fucks him up). Stiles tells Peter how to make his clam chowder thicker without sacrificing taste. Stiles is sure it would look strange on the outside to be getting along with Peter Hale, but really, Peter's soul is very akin to his own. There are years and cultures between them, but at the core they're very similar, and in Stiles' long life he's found that for him, like calls to like. He shelves that for now, because he likes Peter, and one thing he does know for sure is that's dangerous.

It's a darach that's killing people in town, of that Stiles is sure. He doesn't say that to Scott, though. He'd rather deal with this before the pack gets dragged into it because god, do they fuck shit up for him. But then there's an alpha pack and Stiles' plans to deal with the dark druid go tits up. 

Stiles is planning on using the nemeton to help find the darach. He or she will make a play for the nemeton, Stiles is positive of that, and he can use that either by setting a trap, or using the nemeton's energy to help find them like he did Gerard. It might take more energy than Stiles really has to take a darach down though, so he's still working out the details of that before he goes searching for anyone. 

It turns out Stiles doesn't need to search for anyone because Mrs. Edwards finally goes on maternity leave and gets a substitute. Stiles barely makes it in the classroom door before a wave of _magichatewrong_ hits him and he instantly knows he's found her. The strength of her warped magic makes him instantly nauseated, staggering him back against the door frame. Ms. Blake is distracted with another student and doesn't see Stiles, so he's able to dip out of the room just to run straight into Scott.

"Hey, where are you going?" Scott asks.

"Don't feel good," Stiles says, and it isn't even a lie. "Going home."

"Oh," Scott says, looking worried. "I'll take notes for you, okay?"

Stiles waves in thanks, not bothering to tell Scott his chicken scratch notes wouldn't be helpful even if he needed them. Stiles doesn't take the time to sign himself out at the front office, just leaves immediately, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the sick feeling of the darach. He still feels shaky when he gets to his car, but it's manageable now, the shock has mostly worn off with time and some distance. He's not sure what his plan is, or what he should do, but before he can consciously decide, he's already calling Peter.

_"Stiles, shouldn't you be in class?"_

"Where are you?" Stiles asks.

_"I'm at home making a wonderful chicken marsala, why?"_ Peter asks.

"I need to talk to you. Now," Stiles says. "I'm coming over."

_"I wish I could be surprised that you know where I live,"_ Peter says. _"Fine, I'll have a plate for you."_

Before Stiles can tell him he doesn't care about his damn chicken marsala, Peter hangs up. 

"Ass," Stiles grumbles, but he already feels better as he starts the car. He knows of all people, Peter's smart enough to believe Stiles, and pragmatic enough to know that just telling her to knock it off, like Scott would want, isn't going to do shit.

Stiles does know where Peter lives and it's a fifteen minute drive from the school to downtown Beacon Hills where Peter's high rise is. It's extremely pretentious with a doorman that looks at Stiles like he knows he definitely doesn't belong here. Stiles doesn't have the time nor the patience for that at all and zaps the man as he walks by, leaving him a little dazed with no recollection of Stiles. It's an unnecessary use of power but Stiles is beyond caring.

The door to Peter's apartment is unlocked and Stiles lets himself in, following the smell of food until the hallway opens up into the kitchen. It's a beautiful apartment, luxurious kitchen opening into a tastefully decorated living room. The plush carpet looks softer than anything Stiles has ever put his feet on, and all the furniture just screams elegance. It's perfect for Peter. 

"By all means, make yourself at home," Peter says sarcastically.

"If you didn't want me to walk in, you would have locked the door," Stiles says.

Peter hums, conceding the point. He's at the counter, barefoot, dishing up food onto two plates. Despite the anxiety and restlessness thrumming through him, the marsala does smell good. Peter takes the plates around the island to the table and sets them down, coming back a few minutes later with drinks. Peter sits and looks at Stiles expectantly. 

"You can sit down. It isn't going to eat itself," Peter says.

"What, no poison?" Stiles asks, taking a seat. 

"Like it would work on you anyway," Peter says. "Plus, it's a crime to ruin good food with poison."

"Right, how savage of me to assume," Stiles says. "I didn't actually come over for lunch."

Nevertheless, Stiles takes a bite and immediately moans. Of course Peter has the skills of a gourmet chef, why not. Peter looks over at him, the smug asshole, and takes a sip of his wine. 

"What did you come here for, then?" Peter asks. "What has you reeking like anxiety?"

"I know who the darach is," Stiles says. 

Peter's eyebrows raise at that, and it always gives Stiles a vicious bit of pleasure at catching him off guard. 

"Who?" Peter asks. "How?"

"My English teacher," Stiles says. "There's something off. She feels wrong." 

He expects Peter to laugh at that, to say that a _feeling_ isn't the basis of guilt, but he just leans forward, intrigued.

"What does she feel like?" he asks.

"Tainted," Stiles says before he can remind himself to hold back, that Peter doesn't need any more hints about what Stiles is. "She feels like tainted magic and hate. The only other darach I've met felt the exact same."

"The other darach," Peter says. "Tell me Stiles, just how old are you?"

"Old," Stiles says. He lets power bleed into his voice, lets his eyes glow like Peter had seen all those months ago when he'd killed Gerard. Peter's breath catches and oh, _oh_ , this close Stiles can see the way Peter's pupils dilate and he realizes power isn't the only thing about Stiles that Peter's interested in. He doesn't have Peter's enhanced senses, but if he did, he's sure he'd be smelling arousal. 

Peter looks at him for a long time before nodding and saying, "Okay. What do you want to do about your English teacher?"

"You believe me?" Stiles asks.

"Of course. Even if I hadn't been able to hear your heartbeat, I would have," Peter says. Stiles doesn't say that he can control his heartbeat when lying, letting Peter have his little delusion.

"She has to die," Stiles says. "It doesn't matter what her goal is, she won't stop when she's achieved it. That kind of power corrupts and the stronger she gets, the crazier she'll become."

"Agreed," Peter says. 

Stiles sags in relief. He possibly could take on the darach himself, but it'll be easier and less dangerous with an ally. And isn't it strange how Peter Hale went from bad guy to ally. Though, Stiles supposes, he never really considered Peter the bad guy, but Stiles' morals have always been extremely flexible by human standards.

"Honestly, I'd considered that the darach might have been you," Peter says.

Stiles rears back in disgust. "A darach is a perversion. She's twisting magic and nature and using them to kill innocent people. Whatever you might think of me, I don't kill people who don't deserve it," Stiles says.

"I didn't say I believed it, I said I considered it as a possibility. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Peter says.

"You didn't - whatever," Stiles says. He takes another bite of the chicken marsala and tries not to brood over it. Brooding is Derek's thing and Stiles is way too old to deal with that. 

Peter studies Stiles for a moment and carefully, like he's trying to navigate an emotional landmine, asks, "Are we telling the rest of them?"

"No," Stiles says, latching on to the change in subject. "They'll try to stop us. It's better if we do it ourselves."

"What can kill a darach?" Peter asks.

"She's basically human. A fucked up, jumped up on power human, but still human. She won't survive her head being taken off or anything like that," Stiles says.

"So, element of surprise," Peter says. "Unless we want her to...what could she do? Does she have offensive magic?"

"Maybe," Stiles says with a shrug. "It's possible, I don't know what she focuses her energy on. The other darach I met could do the whole Darth Vader force choke, so who knows."

Peter hums thoughtfully, taking another sip of wine. "Does she have any other weaknesses? Mountain ash?"

"Mountain ash won't do shit," Stiles says. "Powdered mistletoe might be a deterrent, but it won't incapacitate her fully. The last darach I met could enhance his healing and was ridiculously strong. Best bet is not to risk it and just take off her head."

Peter agrees with him and Stiles breathes easier. 

Stiles knows Jennifer's going to make a play for the nemeton, so that's where they set their trap. Stiles hasn't had time to come out here since the alpha pack and darach started wreaking chaos in Beacon Hills and when he and Peter arrive, he has to concentrate very hard on not releasing his fury. The nemeton's new shoots of growth are withered and black, the stump weakened and pained. Stiles should have felt this through his connection with the tree, but that goddamn darach did something to it that's kept it from crying out.

Stiles can tell Peter doesn't know what's going on, but he can feel Stiles' rage and wisely keeps quiet. This tree is _Stiles'_ , under his protection and care and even though it's just a tree, Stiles has always been viciously protective of what's his. He closes his eyes and tries to will his power down, not wanting to waste any on dramatic shows of anger. The sparks at his fingertips recede, the glow in his skin fading as he reminds himself that soon she'll be dead, and he'll be the one to do it. 

Peter's watching him warily but Stiles just nods and says, "I'm fine. Be ready."

Stiles places a hand on the nemeton, wincing at the rage and pain. He promises it'll be over soon and that he'll help, but he just needs to ask a little bit of it. Stiles calls up power and uses it to send a spike of energy through the nemeton, easing its pain and healing it somewhat. Jennifer will have felt the power's shock wave, will come to come to investigate and pull out whatever energy she can from it so until then, Peter and Stiles wait.

They stand in the shadow of the trees so Stiles has to use less glamour to hide them from prying eyes. It takes an hour for Jennifer to show up, loudly walking through the undergrowth to the nemeton's clearing. Peter rolls his eyes at the lack of subtlety, making Stiles smirk. Jennifer circles the nemeton, grinning madly.

Stiles doesn't wait for her to suck out what energy he'd put into the tree. Instead he drops the glamour and steps forward. Jennifer's eyes widen as she sees him but before she can do anything, he's hurling the handful of powdered mistletoe at her. She shrieks, falling backward as it it hits her. It strips her of her disguise and Stiles and Peter can finally see her as she is, scarred and mutilated. 

Peter sneers in revulsion but before they can do anything, Jennifer is standing again. Stiles frowns. She should be down for at least long enough for them to get close enough to take her head, but Stiles can feel her gathering her energy and fuck, she's stronger than Stiles had anticipated. He's getting too cocky in his old age.

Jennifer takes one look at Stiles with his glowing skin and eyes and thrumming power and grins. 

"Odmieńce," she breathes. Stiles curses under his breath and gathers his magic around him, feeling it rise to the surface. "I haven't come across something like you so alone," Jennifer says with a grin. 

Stiles doesn't like the hungry look in her eyes, like she's imagining just what kind of power boost a fae would give her. Peter doesn't seem to like it either, because he growls and charges at her. Jennifer waves her hand and Peter goes flying into a tree with a sickening crack. Stiles sees red.

Stiles lashes out, his magic knocking Jennifer back onto the stump of the nemeton. Her eyes are wide with shock and she tries to raise her hands, presumably to fire back at him, but she doesn't get the chance. Stiles is of the fae, of nature, and nature isn't happy with how Jennifer has been perverting it. It responds to his call, vines twisting up from the base of the nemeton, wrapping around Jennifer's arms and legs, keeping her from being able to aim at Stiles. She tries to scream at him, to hurl curses but with a wave of his hand, a vine wraps around her throat too, squeezing until she can barely breathe.

Jennifer is powerful and it's not an easy feat to hold her. The ground beneath them shakes as she rages, limbs falling from trees and cracks appearing in the earth. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles can see Peter moving, getting up slowly from where he'd hit a tree. Good, he knows Peter will want to be awake for this. 

Stiles lunges forward, straddling her waist. She tries to buck him off but Stiles isn't a human she can toss around. He grins and lets the change take over him as he so seldom does. His skin and eyes glow brighter, his fingers lengthen into long, sharp claws, delicate-looking but deadly. He grins with sharpened teeth, reveling in her wide-eyed fear. He loves the look they get when they realize there's no way out, that they're going to die no matter what. 

"You need me," she manages to gasp out. "You need me...to kill Deucalion."

"You know, I don't think I do," Stiles says. 

Stiles brings his sharp claws down, slashing nearly all the way through her throat, spraying her blood. The nemeton beneath her soaks up her spilled blood, absorbing in deep into its trunk. Stiles honestly can't say he saw this coming, but he can roll with punches as good as the rest of them and helps guide the nemeton in sucking out the magic and life force from the darach. She dies slowly, the nemeton taking everything she has to give until she's nothing but a dried husk.

The nemeton feels better, feels healed somewhat. Sacrificing Jennifer to it breathes life back into the shriveled shoots growing out of it, making them healthier and thicker than before. The power in the ancient tree stump thrums strongly, stronger than Stiles has felt it, fortifying itself with Jennifer's ill-gotten magic. 

Stiles stumbles off the nemeton and into Peter, nearly falling on his ass before Peter wraps an arm around him to keep him upright. His skin and eyes aren't glowing anymore, his teeth and hands back to human. He's used a lot of magic in a very short amount of time and he's paying the price for it now, feeling weak and woozy. Peter doesn't seem to mind, his arm around Stiles' waist, a warm anchor. They both watch as Jennifer's body disintegrates to dust, the nemeton taking absolutely all of her until there's nothing left. 

"Well," Peter says after a pause, "at least we don't have to decapitate her anymore."

Stiles snorts and regretfully pulls away from Peter to stand on his own. He immediately misses the warmth, but he doesn't say anything. If Peter sticks close to his side while they make their way out of the preserve, well, Stiles doesn't say anything about that either. It takes until they're sliding into Peter's car that he addresses what Jennifer said.

"So, odmieńce," Peter says, and the bastard doesn't even have the decency to mispronounce it. 

Stiles groans and lets his head thunk back against the headrest. "Yeah," he says.

"Do you want to tell me, or should I try to find what I can and possibly stumble into the perils of misinformation?" Peter asks.

Stiles groans again. Honestly, the man's a skilled researcher and if Stiles doesn't tell him, he's probably going to find semi-reliable information anyway. At least this way he can regulate and frame what Peter knows before he looks into it on his own. 

"Odmieńce...it's Polish. A changeling," Stiles says. 

"A changeling...a child left behind by the fae?" Peter asks. 

"Yep," Stiles says. "A boginki, specifically." 

"If my memory serves, the fae usually steal a child and leave a changeling in its place," Peter says, glancing over at him. Stiles keeps his eyes on the road in front of them. 

"Yeah," Stiles says quietly. "Claudia Stilinski had always been respectful of the fae, and there was one in particular that was fond of her. When the son she gave birth to had an underdeveloped heart and wasn't going to make it...the well-meaning but misguided fae switched us."

They're just pulling into Peter's apartment complex so Peter's able to park and turn in his seat, giving Stiles his undivided attention. In another context, Stiles would enjoy it, but now he's not sure what to do with the scrutiny. 

"Switched you," Peter repeats softly, like he knows what he's about to hear isn't pleasant.

"Stiles Stilinski died a few hours after he was born. The boginki took his body and gave Mom - _Claudia_ \- me," Stiles says. He's looking out the front window of the car, over the tops of the trees lining the entry to Peter's building. There's an owl sitting in the branches, invisible to human eyes in the dark, but Stiles can see it just fine. "It was supposed to be a gift for Claudia and punishment for me at the same time."

"Punishment?" Peter asks quietly, like he knows exactly how close Stiles is to closing his mouth against the flow of words he's never spoken aloud.

"The Court was mad at me. They said I spent too much time walking among the humans and if I wanted to be on that physical plane so much, they'd happily help it along," Stiles says. 

"They took you from your home," Peter says softly. 

Stiles shrugs. The Court was never his favorite place to be, but he had friends and family and he enjoyed the gardens, the animals. It was his home, as much as he sometimes needed to be on the human plane. 

"Can you ever go back?" Peter asks.

"Maybe," Stiles says. The fae have long memories, but they also can be fickle. Feuds that matter for a millennia suddenly stop when someone just doesn't feel like it anymore, or go forgotten when no one is around to pay attention. But then sometimes the smallest slight, say forgetting to wipe your feet before stepping in to the queen's audience chamber, will be unforgivable. Stiles has seen it happen many a time. "It's not so bad here. When Beacon Hills isn't a hot fucking mess. And I have my dad and Scott. And you."

Peter's eyes widen briefly and Stiles huffs. He doesn't know why the wolf is surprised; did he think Stiles would give away his deepest secret to just anyone? Stiles can tell Peter's just itching to ask more questions, but is holding himself back, which is honestly surprising, but appreciated. 

Stiles doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until Peter touches his shoulder. Stiles opens his eyes to see Peter frowning. 

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"Drained," Stiles says. "I'll be better after I eat and get some sleep."

Peter nods and gets out of the car, rounding it and opening Stiles' door. Stiles raises an eyebrow but lets Peter help him out of the car. He's embarrassed to say he needs the assistance. If he were at Court, he wouldn't be this weak after using his abilities, but being cut off from the collective power of the fae makes him weaker. It's never been a huge problem, there hasn't been anything especially challenging in Beacon Hills up until recently, but now...Stiles really should be looking into some power boosts.

Peter supports Stiles with an arm around his waist through the apartment building's back door, avoiding the prying eyes of Peter's doorman. Stiles could probably walk on his own, but he's tired and he enjoys someone caring for him for once, so sue him. Once they're in the apartment, Peter walks him through the master bedroom and into the bathroom, setting him down on the closed lid of the toilet. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'd prefer it if you don't track blood all over my apartment. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to spend the night covered in darach blood," Peter says 

Stiles looks down and okay, yeah, his clothes are pretty soaked in blood. It's smeared on his hands and arms too, and he's shocked that Peter even let him in his car like this. Peter hands him a towel and turns on the shower.

"Go ahead and shower. I'll set some clothes out for you," Peter says. 

Stiles nods his thanks and strips out of his clothes once Peter closes the bathroom door behind him. He's grateful for the space, feeling oddly emotionally vulnerable after his big fae reveal, but he's also grateful that Peter isn't going far. 

The hot shower is heavenly and Stiles just stands under the spray for close to ten minutes until he finally gets in gear and starts to wash himself. The darach's blood stains the water copper as he scrubs the dried bits off his skin. He hums consideringly as he scrubs at his arm. If killing Jennifer, a half crazy darach, could give the nemeton that big of a power boost, what would killing Deucalion, the alpha of alphas, do for Stiles?

Peter's left a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out for Stiles (it blows Stiles' mind a bit that the wolf even _owns_ sweats), so after he's showered and changed, he makes his way out of Peter's bedroom. Peter is at the stove, stirring what Stiles is pretty sure is spaghetti carbonara. Good, he's starving.

"I'm going to kill Deucalion," Stiles says.

Peter looks up and raises his eyebrows, though he doesn't seem surprised. "A wise decision," Peter says. "Why are you telling me?"

"Well, you're going to try to kill at least one of the alpha pack," Stiles says, walking deeper into the room. He hops up onto the counter next to where Peter's standing at the stove and glances down. Carbonara, excellent. "I just wanted to let you know, I call dibs on Deucalion."

Peter had stilled when Stiles said he's planning on killing an alpha, looking at him warily. 

"What?" Stiles asks. 

"You're not going to try to stop me?" Peter asks. 

"From what? Killing an alpha?" Stiles asks, frowning a bit. "No, why? You're going to try to become an alpha again either way and I'd rather you kill a stranger for it than Derek."

Peter keeps staring at Stiles, like he can't quite figure him out which is honestly fine with Stiles. He doesn't think Peter is challenged nearly enough. 

"You care about my nephew that much?" Peter finally asks.

"Jealous?" Stiles teases, then the muscle in Peter's jaw twitches and Stiles' mouth drops. "You _are_?"

Peter huffs. "I'm not jealous," Peter says. "I just wasn't aware you two were close."

"We aren't," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "But I've helped keep him alive so far, it'd be a shame for all that effort to go to waste. Plus, we have a bit of an alpha surplus at the moment, you might as well take one of them instead of your last family tie."

Peter stirs the carbonara and doesn't say anything for a few minutes. He doesn't seem angry though, so Stiles closes his eyes and rests his head against the cabinet behind him, listening to Peter's movements as he finishes cooking. He doesn't even jump when a few minutes later, Peter touches his knee. Stiles opens his eyes to see Peter looking at him indulgently. 

"Food is ready," Peter says.

Stiles yawns and nods, hopping down a second later and following Peter to the dinner table. The spaghetti carbonara and two glasses of water are out, along with silverware and napkins. It's a very elegant place setting, like a lot of what Peter does, but it doesn't remind Stiles of the gilded opulence of the Court, so he doesn't mind it. 

"Wine would really go better with this than water, and it's not like you're technically underage, but that's not going to help rehydrate you," Peter says.

"Way over the drinking age," Stiles says with a grin because it's weird, but _nice_ to be able to talk about his true self. "But that's fine, water sounds better right now anyway."

Stiles takes a bite of the pasta and groans, eyes closing. Peter really is a wonderful cook. There were cooks at the Court that may have been more talented after centuries of practice, but Stiles likes Peter's creativity and flair. Peter preens at the praise before taking a bite of his own food. They eat quietly, the food helping Stiles gain a bit more energy, at least enough to keep up with a quiet conversation.

"Why Deucalion?" Peter asks eventually before taking a bite of pasta. 

Stiles hums and considers not answering but really, he's already decided to trust Peter. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that. It might not be the best decision he's ever made, but it's already made. 

"You saw what Jennifer's death did to the nemeton?" Stiles asks. Peter nods. "I think Deucalion, and all that stolen alpha power, could do that for me." 

Peter looks instantly concerned, and isn't that novel. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you...weakened?" Peter asks. "By being here instead of your Court?" 

Peter's always been a little too perceptive for his own good. 

"Yeah," Stiles says with a shrug. "I mean, I'm not in danger of fading like Tinkerbell or anything, but my innate magic isn't as strong here. In the fae realm, that kind of magical energy is all over the place and you can draw on it to sustain yourself. That's why my magic drains kind of fast here. I don't have the instant power up waiting." 

"And Deucalion would be your power up," Peter says, understanding drawing. 

"Hopefully. I have to look up some sacrificial rituals, but yeah, I'm pretty sure it'll work," Stiles says.

Peter looks entirely too excited at the prospect, but Stiles isn't really shocked at that.

They put murder plans off until later because as soon as Stiles finishes his last bite, a yawn wracks his body making his eyes water. Peter tsks and hustles Stiles into the bedroom. 

"I can go home, Peter," Stiles says, but gets into Peter's bed anyway. He isn't even surprised when Peter turns off the lights and slides in next to him. "I'm older than you, I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm not babysitting you," Peter says. He rearranges them so that he's lying against Stiles' back, between him and the door, his arm draped around Stiles' waist. "I'm taking care of you. I'm rather good at it, believe it or not."

"Why?" Stiles asks.

"I'm interested in you," Peter says. 

Stiles scoffs. "You're attracted to power," he says. 

"I'm attracted to _you_ ," Peter says. "Power is just a bonus."

Stiles doesn't say anything. He's too tired to really try to dissect what Peter's saying because while yes, he does believe him at face value, there's always more to it with Peter. But right now, he's drained, he's pleasantly full, and he has a werewolf guard dog at his back. He can rest now and deal with it in the morning.

Peter and Stiles start working on a plan for the alpha pack, and Peter starts touching Stiles more. It's nothing grand, just a hand on his lower back, brushing against him when they walk by, fingers brushing together, but it's intent. Stiles doesn't make him stop. 

The nemeton is still recovering from Jennifer's assault, so Stiles doesn't want to ask for its help to locate the alpha pack unless he absolutely has to. Thankfully, the alphas are prideful and arrogant, so two of them, twins, show up at the high school. Their intimidation act works on Scott and the rest of them, but it just makes Stiles scoff. Giving away the identities of two of your assets is careless, and he has every intention of making them pay for that mistake. 

It's easy to follow them after school. Their motorcycles are loud and they aren't trying to hide. Stiles wraps his magic around himself, camouflaging his scent and heartbeat, and follows at a good distance. They go into an old bank, closed down years ago. He frowns. An odd place to make a lair, but whatever, Stiles isn't a supervillain, maybe it's their thing. 

Stiles stays on the roof of a building across the street for hours, watching the bank entrance. By his count, there are five of them. The twins, a rather feral looking woman, a hulking mass of a man, and another man who looks to be blind. Even if Stiles knew nothing about Deucalion, which he does thanks to Peter, he would be able to tell he's the alpha of alphas. The power just rolls off of him and it makes Stiles grin, teeth a little sharp. Exactly what he needs.

Stiles doesn't attack then, he isn't suicidal, instead retreating to Peter's apartment. The man doesn't look surprised to see him when he knocks, but he does look pleased. At least, until Stiles opens his mouth.

"I followed two alphas," Stiles says.

Peter's eyes harden and he tugs Stiles in the front door.

"You what?" Peter asks. 

Stiles kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack, moving deeper into the apartment. 

"There are two alphas twins at school now," Stiles says. "I followed them back to that closed down First National Bank downtown. There are five in total, and they...why do you look pissed? This is good news."

Peter's glaring, nostrils flared. His eyes aren't flashing blue, but if he had any less control, Stiles thinks they would be.

"Tell me why you would do something as foolish and dangerous as tracking a pack of alphas on your own?" Peter grits out.

"Dude, I was hiding my scent and heartbeat, they didn't know I was there," Stiles says.

"And if they saw you? Would you be able to fight off five alpha werewolves at once?" Peter asks. "Or would I be finding your body dumped in the preserve?" 

Stiles blinks. "Were you... _worried_ about me?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face. 

Peter huffs. "Someone has to be," he grumbles. 

And, well, that's true. He loves his dad and Scott, but they kind of drop the ball in that area. A lot. He smiles at Peter and Peter just rolls his eyes, but he does tug Stiles to him. Stiles goes willingly, though he's confused right up until Peter leans in, pressing their cheeks together. He blinks in surprise as Peter scents him, his stubble brushing against Stiles' skin. Stiles isn't sure what exactly to do, he hasn't been chummy with too many werewolves, but he presses in closer, clumsily rubbing his jaw against Peter's. Peter's hands on his shoulders spasm, his grip tightening.

When Peter pulls away, some of the tension in his eyes is gone, and Stiles wonders if Peter considers anyone besides him pack. 

They wait and plan. They don't tell Scott and the others what they're doing because, again, he would try to stop them. Stiles gets the blueprints to the bank and he and Peter pore over them, looking for anything that would makes this bank special, any reason why the alphas picked it to be their base of operations. It's Peter who discovers, while looking over over the bank's plans as Stiles cooks dinner, that the vault made of moonstone. It isn't a leap to guess that they're keeping Derek's wayward betas there, trying to drive them feral. 

"Okay, we know the why. Guess that doesn't really change much other than making sure we don't break in on a full moon," Stiles says, stirring the stroganoff. They're at Peter's, because his internet is faster, his kitchen is nicer, and Stiles' dad doesn't even notice if he's not home. Peter hums in agreement.

They wait until the twins are at school and Deucalion and Kali are out, off threatening Derek, before breaking in. Stiles disguises their heartbeats and scents from Ennis, the alpha left holding down the fort. He doesn't realize they're there until Peter is in front of him, ripping out his throat. Stiles watches warily as Peter closes his eyes, the alpha power filling him. Stiles has his magic ready and his hand on the gun with wolfsbane bullets he'd liberated from Chris Argent. He's not expecting Peter to go all feral alpha again, his mind is less broken than it was last time, but Stiles hasn't lived this long by ignoring caution.

Peter...doesn't seem to be going feral, though. He stays still for several moments, breathing deeply, before opening his glowing red eyes. Stiles' breath hitches, and it isn't from fear. Peter takes two quick steps toward him, then he's crowding Stiles against the wall, burying his face in Stiles' throat. Stiles rests his hands on Peter's arms, not pushing him away, letting himself be thoroughly scented. 

"Peter," Stiles says softly, brushing his fingers through his soft hair. "Come on, we need to get Boyd and Erica and go before the others get back." 

Peter nods and reluctantly pulls back. His eyes are blue again, but the desire is still there. He turns and Stiles follows him deeper into the bank, toward the vault. Peter pauses right outside the closed door, frowning. 

"What?" Stiles asks.

"There are three heartbeats inside," Peter says slowly.

"Okay, weird, but - "

"I think...I think one's my niece," Peter says.

That makes Stiles pause. "Your niece," he says slowly. 

"It smells like her from before the fire, but it's different and...I'm not sure..." Peter says, and Stiles has never heard Peter stumble over words like this.

"Let's go find out then," Stiles says.

Stiles opens the vault door and Peter's breath hitches. Erica and Boyd are huddled in the corner of the vault, eyeing them warily, and on Erica's other side is a slim brunette who looks like she needs a few square meals. Stiles can instantly tell she's a Hale, and if he's going by the soft, pained noise Peter makes, he can, too. 

Erica and Boyd's eyes widen in recognition and they struggle to their feet. Stiles wonders if they're being fed at all for them to be this week. The brunette is more wary, staying back, but she stares at Peter.

"Stiles," Erica gasps.

"You guys were hard to track down," Stiles says. He leans down, wiping away the mountain ash keeping them inside, and a second later Erica is crashing into him, hugging him tight enough that if he were purely human, he'd be severely bruised tomorrow. 

Boyd doesn't hug him, but when Erica pulls back, he sets a heavy hand on Stiles' shoulder and says, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Stiles says awkwardly, not quite used to what looks uncomfortably like adoration on their faces. 

Peter walks farther into the vault, toward the girl. She doesn't move away, but she doesn't walk closer to Peter.

"Cora?" Peter asks softly. 

"Uncle Peter?" she asks uncertainly, like doesn't know if she's remembering right. She'd have been what, ten at the time of the fire? It wouldn't be shocking if her memories are fuzzy. 

Peter nods, and Cora flings herself forward and into his arms. Peter's eyes are suspiciously wet and Stiles looks away to Erica and Boyd, letting the Hales have their moment. Boyd and Erica look gaunt, like they haven't had a good meal in weeks. They could both do with a hot shower and probably all the hugs in the world, but Stiles is pretty sure that isn't going to chase the haunted looks from their eyes.

"We have to go," Boyd says. "We don't know when they'll be back

Erica's looking around nervously, like she's expecting Deucalion to be back at any moment. Stiles looks over at Peter. He and Cora aren't hugging anymore, mostly just staring at each other in wonder and fear and Stiles really hates to break up their reunion, but Boyd's right.

"Come on," Stiles says, drawing their attention. "We're not nearly ready enough for a showdown with the alpha pack." 

Peter nods. Cora doesn't say anything, but she follows Stiles out with Erica and Boyd, Peter bringing up the rear. They hadn't planned on rescuing three, but Stiles' jeep is big and they all fit. Boyd, Erica, and Cora keep looking out the windows with a mix of apprehension and wonder, like they honestly didn't know if they'd see outside again. Stiles isn't even close to them, but it makes something in him ache. Maybe the boginki had been right and being around humans all the time made him soft. 

They go to Stiles' house because waltzing in to the loft while Deucalion and Kali might be there with their three prisoners doesn't sound like the greatest plan, and Stiles also wants to give Peter the chance to explain to Cora the whole going insane and unintentionally killing Laura thing before she sees Derek. Stiles sends Boyd to the bathroom in his dad's room to shower and Erica to the one by his room, leaving out clothes that should fit both of them. Peter takes Cora outside to talk to her privately about the fire and Laura, something Stiles appreciates because if there's a brawl, he'd rather it not be in his living room. Stiles pulls cheese, meat, and other sandwich ingredients out of the fridge and sets them out so Boyd, Erica, and Cora can make their own when they're done, then he sits at the kitchen table, taking a deep breath.

Peter's an alpha again. Stiles helped a formerly insane, ex-serial killer regain alpha status, and he hadn't even thought twice about it. Granted, it makes sense from a practical standpoint. Now they have two alphas to Deucalion's four. That's better than the one-on-five odds from before, even though it still isn't great. Granted, Stiles himself evens out those odds pretty well, if he does says so himself. Still, practicality isn't why he let Peter take the alpha power from Ennis. Stiles _likes_ the stupid werewolf, and isn't that just a recipe for disaster? Stiles doesn't have time for crushes on murderous werewolves, he has a pack of killers to deal with. 

When Cora and Peter have shouted it out ("You killed her!" "She left me, a packmate, unprotected! To rot!") and Boyd and Erica have showered, they have a quiet, very weird lunch. No one is really talking except for Stiles, and even he doesn't feel like babbling on just to get blank stares in return. Stiles really doesn't feel like going to Derek's to reunite him with his sister and betas, but he needs to hear what they have to say about the alpha pack, so they pile back into his jeep and drive to the loft. 

Stiles had called ahead and said he was coming over, though he'd left out exactly who was with him. Derek's eyes widen as he takes in the three betas in front of him. There's a lot of hugging and some crying, lots of apologizing from Erica and Boyd, and again from Derek, all of which Stiles politely looks away for. He's not comfortable with his own emotional outbursts let alone others'. Peter's uncharacteristically silent at Stiles' side, and Stiles has the bizarre urge to take his hand and offer comfort. He doesn't know how Peter would react though, so he stays still.

Derek's so grateful that he doesn't even grill Stiles on how he found them or what he thought he was doing going after the alpha pack alone. Once Erica and Boyd are dozing on the couch and Cora is on the balcony making a few phone calls, Derek stalks up to Stiles. For a wild second, Stiles thinks Derek is going to hit him, though he isn't sure why (it's _Derek_ , it's a valid worry), but he just tugs him into a tight hug, shuddering against Stiles. Stiles hugs him back a little awkwardly, looking wide-eyed over Derek's shoulder at Peter. Peter's face is doing something very weird, like he's torn between exasperation, amusement, and irritation. When Derek lets him go, Peter very deliberately runs a hand down Stiles' back where Derek had been holding him, as if he's trying to cover up his nephew's scent. Stiles rolls his eyes. 

Stiles leaves Peter at Derek's loft, knowing he isn't quite ready to let his long lost niece out of his sight. Stiles...has no idea how that relationship is going to shake out. He's heard Peter mention Cora in the past and has always been under the impression that she was his favorite, but hasn't ever really felt comfortable enough to push at those mental wounds, not now that he and Peter are close. Closer. Friends. Whatever. He wants Peter to have a relationship with Cora, as much of one as he can with everything that's happened, but he really doesn't know how well the whole 'I killed your sister' thing is going to play out in the long run. Yeah, Peter was insane, driven out of his mind by years of excruciating pain, pain that would have ended sooner if he'd been near his alpha. 

And Laura...Laura who had abandoned her uncle, her pack member, in one of the cruelest ways possible. Leaving Peter alone in the hospital where any hunter could walk in and finish the job of killing him, instead of taking her wounded uncle with her where he could heal quicker with the support of his pack. She was a shit alpha and if Stiles could, he'd raise her from the dead just to ream her a new one. He can't say he wouldn't have done the exact same thing in Peter's place, though he feels like the support of a morally gray fae isn't going to help Peter's case much should Cora decide that no, Peter doesn't deserve to know her.

Stiles tries to put Peter out of his mind and goes over everything Erica, Boyd, and Cora had told them about the alpha pack. They didn't disclose much that Peter and Stiles haven't already guessed, but it's nice to have some confirmation if nothing else. Yes, the twins, Kali, and Deucalion are the only ones left. Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis would talk about the darach a lot, wondering if whoever it is will get in their way, then theorizing why he or she hasn't made a move in weeks. 

There's more or less useless information, like Deucalion prefers earl gray tea, but will also drink a peppermint mocha. Then there's information they could potentinally use, like Deucalion gets exasperated by Kali's gleeful savagery. Like how Kali and Ennis are close, the twins are the bottom of the totem pole so to speak, and, most importantly, they're using Marin Morell as an unwilling emissary. Stiles can use that. He isn't sure how yet, but it opens up a lot of possibilities. 

He's writing out everything he knows on his rolling whiteboard, magicked so that only he can see its contents, when he hears his window slide open. He knows without having to look that it's Peter. He and Derek are the only ones that use his window, especially past midnight, and he is tuned in enough to Peter's energy that he can always tell when he's near lately. 

Stiles turns, saying, "Hey, I thought you'd still be with Cora." The words are barely out of his mouth before Peter is there, backing him against the wall. Stiles has time to take a breath and then Peter's lips are on his, kissing him senseless. It takes Stiles a second to get with the program, but then he's wrapping his arms around Peter, kissing him back. Stiles hasn't kissed someone in years, not since before he was sent to the Stilinskis as a baby. Most kids find him weird, which Stiles doesn't really care about. He knows about a vast world, both supernatural and not, and that's far more interesting to him than some shitty high schoolers' opinions of him. That also means that no one is lining up to kiss the weird kid. But he wants Peter in a way he so rarely wants someone.

Peter pulls back eventually, but only far enough to rest his forehead against Stiles'. They breathe together harshly, and Stiles can't stop his hands from clutching at Peter as if he'll disappear if he lets go. Peter presses a kiss to his temple.

"It doesn't matter if she decides she hates me or can't forgive me for Laura," Peter says (lies). His lips are ghosting over Stiles' skin as he speaks. "I know she's alive. You've given me that."

"I didn't give you anything," Stiles says. "We both broke into the bank."

"I would never have done that alone and we both know it," Peter says. "So thank you."

Stiles doesn't know what to say to that, so he just kisses Peter again, running his fingers through his soft hair, down his strong back. Peter kisses him hungrily, like he thinks he won't have another chance, and, well, that's something that Stiles should probably clarify for him at some point soon.

"I didn't think I'd get the chance to do this," Peter murmurs against his lips and, well, now's as good a time as any then.

"I thought you could smell how much I want you, stupid wolf," Stiles teases.

Peter shrugs. "Lots of people smell of arousal around me," Peter says and Stiles snorts at that. "It doesn't always mean anything."

"Do I need to spell out that I want you?" Stiles asks.

"What about Lydia?" Peter asks. "You been in love with her for a while."

"I'm not," Stiles says with an eye roll. "She's a banshee, I'm of the fae. Like calls to like. I was drawn to her because we share similar blood. That's it."

Peter hums, nuzzling at his throat, and Stiles can feel the grin against his skin. He huffs fondly and tilts his head to the side, giving Peter easier access. He knows the new alpha instincts will be strong and he has an inkling that Peter sees Stiles as pack, so some light scenting is expected. Peter nudges Stiles toward his bed, and he goes easily. 

It's late, the sheriff isn't home, and it's been a long ass day. Stiles kicks his shoes off and makes Peter do the same before they lie down, Stiles cradled against Peter's chest. Peter keeps brushing his cheek over the top of Stiles' head, scenting him in a not-so-subtle way. Stiles huffs out a laugh against Peter's chest, but doesn't make him stop. It's...nice. It sounds stupid, but he hasn't really been held since his mom died. He and Scott would sprawl all over each other at sleepovers, and his dad hugs him once in a while, but it's really not the same. Stiles hadn't realized how much he misses it.

"When your time is up on Earth...will you die?" Peter asks quietly.

"I don't know," Stiles says. The boginki hadn't exactly been forthcoming when she'd forced him into Stiles Stilinski's crib. He could end up back in the fae realm, or he could just die in his human body.

Peter doesn't seem to enjoy that answer and holds Stiles tighter. 

Peter starts spending a lot of time at the loft with Derek and Cora (and Stiles is really glad he doesn't have to be there for that awkward mess), but when he has free time, he's with Stiles. Scott's too busy chasing after Allison to notice the scent of Peter clinging to Stiles these days, and he's fine with that. Peter and Stiles comb through the books Peter's had squirreled away that avoided damage by the fire or were stored in the Hale vault (Stiles had cried laughing when Peter showed him where it was), searching for a ritual that will help Stiles absorb what power Deucalion has. Stiles is 100% certain he's read about something that would work when he was still at Court, but that's not really an option for him right now. He tries not to sulk about it. 

It's Peter who comes through with an answer in the end. While they'd agreed that talking to Deaton was entirely too risky, Peter does have some pre-fire contacts he reaches out to. One is a witch in Sacramento that owes him a favor, and comes through with a spellbook that positively reeks of fae magic. Stiles is dying to know how she got her hands on it, but she's not asking them any questions so he repays the courtesy.

The ritual isn't exactly right for what Stiles needs. It describes how a fae can steal another fae's life force, but he can make it work. The iron circle will need to be changed for wolfsbane, and a few of the nasty things he'll need to dip his claw into will need to be adjusted, but it'll work. 

Peter asks only once if Stiles is sure he wants to do this. It's cute, Peter wanting to preserve Stiles' morals, but to be honest he has even less of them than Peter does. He has no qualms about taking the ill-gotten power of Deucalion, a murderer many times over, a bastardization of an alpha, someone unworthy of what has. And since Deaton proclaimed that Scott has the potential to be a True Alpha, and that's the real reason Deucalion is in town (Stiles knew it couldn't actually be the recruit _Derek_ ), well, Stiles is even more motivated to end his miserable, pack-betraying life.

Stiles spends a couple of weeks gathering what he needs and waiting for certain items to be shipped to him (the internet really is an awesome thing). A wrench is almost thrown in his plans when every student is sent to the counselor to talk about the death and tragedy that's surrounded them this year. Stiles and Marin Morell stare at each other with the desk between them, neither speaking for a long time. He's never spoken to her face-to-face before and he can tell she immediately knows he's other. 

"I'm not going to help you," Morell finally says. 

"But you aren't going to stop me?" Stiles clarifies. 

"My position is one of non-interference," Morell says. "I'm here to maintain the balance."

Stiles doesn't scoff, though it's hard not to. Non-interference on Deaton's part is how Kate easily took down the entire Hale pack (and Stiles is shocked Peter hasn't killed him yet for that). Non-interference is how you get alpha packs and darachs attacking children. He wonders what that alpha pack has on her to get her to help them in the first place. Stiles doesn't say any of that though, because at the moment Morell and he are going to stay out of each other's way. 

Once Stiles has the last ingredient he needs, a rare strain of wolfsbane he stole from Chris, he's ready to grab Deucalion. Peter had insisted on being present, so Stiles loads everything he needs into a duffel bag and heads to Peter's apartment. It's not Peter who answers the door, though. It's Cora. Stiles blinks at her in surprise. He's seen her at Derek's a few times in the last couple of weeks, but they haven't really spoken. She tends to regard him with cautious interest, which he can respect. He sees a lot of Peter in her. He really hadn't been expecting to see her tonight.

"Uh, hey," Stiles says, suddenly very aware that he has a bag full of werewolf killing supplies, half of which she can probably smell.

"Hi," she says. She steps aside, letting Stiles walk in. "Peter's in the shower."

"Gotcha," Stiles says. Cora doesn't say anything, just watches as Stiles sets his bag down and sits on the arm of the couch. "So...how ya been?"

Cora snorts and sits in the armchair across from Stiles. 

"I've been good," she says, and Stiles is a bit surprised she answered. "Better than being locked in a vault at least."

Stiles snorts. "Yeah, that's fair," he says.

She looks better, too. She's gained a bit of weight, making the gaunt, sunken quality her face carried before smooth out. There's still a bit of tightness around her eyes, a sense of wariness that Stiles is sure isn't going to go away any time soon, but she looks more sure of herself, like she's back on solid ground. 

"You're going after Deucalion, aren't you?" Cora asks, aprops of nothing. Stiles feels his face go carefully blank, a very useful skill he's perfected over the years for when playing the bumbling klutz doesn't work. Peter's always seen right through it, and it seems like Cora's just the same. 

"That's a little too dangerous for a squishy human to do," Stiles says, trying to play it off.

Cora narrows her eyes and leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped in front of her. "I think we both know you're just about as human as I am," she says. Stiles says nothing, just watches her carefully. Cora stays silent too, just watching him carefully before eventually leaning back in her chair. "I don't think Deucalion is as blind as he acts."

Stiles frowns, not having expected that at all. "What do you mean?"

"I think he can see when he's shifted. At least a little bit," Cora says. "As soon as he would flash his alpha eyes, he moved completely differently, and he looked at us directly instead of a bit off over our shoulders."

Stiles hums. He can work with that. He has a flash grenade in his bag that he'd been planning on using on Kali and the twins, but that could be used on Deucalion if he's in a shift.

"Thanks," Stiles says.

Cora nods. "Don't get my uncle killed," she says

"I won't," Stiles says. If it looks like going is getting tough, he's taking Peter and hauling ass out of there. Yeah, Stiles wants Deucalion dead, but not enough to sacrifice Peter's life, especially not now that there's...whatever the thing between them is.

"Good," Cora says and Stiles has the distinct feeling this was her version of the shovel speech. She stands and puts on her jacket. "Have fun. Don't die."

"I'll do my best," Stiles says. 

Cora lets herself out after another long look at him. 

"Has she thanked you yet?" Peter asks.

Stiles turns to see Peter walking into the living room. He's wearing jeans and a v-neck, barefoot, his hair still damp from the shower.

"For what?" Stiles asks.

"Saving her from the alpha pack."

"No," Stiles says, and he doesn't expect she will. "Did she thank you?"

"No," Peter says, seeming completely unconcerned. "I think she keeps trying, but ends up making a rude comment instead."

Stiles snorts. "Well she told me not to get you killed when we go after Deucalion, does that count?" Stiles asks.

"She's always been too smart for her own good," Peter says wistfully. "Are we ready?"

"Yep," Stiles says.

The alpha pack abandoned the bank after Stiles and Peter broke out their hostages and killed Ennis and retreated to a penthouse apartment. Amusingly, it's in the same building that the Argents live in, taunting the hunters. It'll make killing them a bit more difficult, but not impossible. Stiles can throw up wards that will muffle sound, so hopefully if the neighbors hear anything, they'll think someone just left the TV on too loud. 

Stiles disguises Peter and his arrival right up until they're kicking down the door. They see Deucalion first, in his beta shift, claws out in the face of intruders. Perfect. Peter throws the flash grenade at the same time as Stiles throws the mountain ash, sealing the so-called demon wolf in the circle. He's howling, hands covering his eyes in pain. 

Kali and the twins come barreling out of the back of the apartment, but Stiles and Peter are ready for them. Peter may be a new alpha, but he's much older than the twins, and much stronger, especially when they're not conjoined in a creepy alpha Frankenstein. Peter's been fighting for longer than the twins have been alive, and it shows. It takes him less than ten seconds to knock out one, and even less to snap the neck of the second. 

Kali ignores Peter and charges Stiles, claws out and fangs dropped, like she knows he's the bigger threat. Smart, and foolish of her. Stiles isn't stronger than an alpha werewolf, not right now, but he can pack a punch when he throws with his power, and Kali isn't expecting a gut punch with fae magic behind it. She shrieks, her skin burning where Stiles had touched, falling backward. It gives Stiles enough time to encircle her in more mountain ash, leaving her trapped and snarling. 

Stiles looks up in time to see Peter rip out the throat of the second twin, flicking the blood off his claws. Stiles pulls off his backpack and sets it down on the ground, digging out the supplies he needs. He's already mixed the multiple types of wolfsbane with mistletoe and has it in a tupperware container. Not very magic-y, but it works. The ceremonial bowl comes next, courtesy of the Hale vault. He could have made do with the tupperware, but there's a power in certain magical objects, and it helps. Next is the small clipping off a tree in the preserve, a connection to the nemeton that will act as a focus, and a vial of kanima venom. 

Deucalion is still snarling, clutching his face, so it's easy for Stiles to dart in with the syringe, quickly (and roughly) injecting the kanima venom into his neck. Deucalion snarls, swiping at Stiles, but the venom is working quickly and he barely manages to scratch Stiles' arm. Deucalion falls sideways, completely paralyzed. 

Stiles ignores Kali's animalistic growls and Deucalion's threats and pours the mistletoe and wolfsbane blend into the ceremonial bowl, adds the sprig, and looks up to Peter. Peter doesn't hesitate, dragging his claws across his own arm, adding his blood to the mixture. Blood of a born werewolf, especially an alpha, is teeming with magic, and Peter is more than happy to assist. Bloodthirsty thing that he is.

Stiles lets his claws lengthen, dripping them in the mixture before turning his attention to Deucalion, smirking slightly. He crouches next to the alpha, positioning his claws right over his heart. Stiles starts chanting softly in a fae language, something Peter had hungrily latched on to the second he'd heard Stiles practicing the incantation. 

Stiles' connection with the nemeton pulses inside him, offering its support. His connection with Peter, amplified by blood, is a strong, steady presence in the back of his mind and Stiles draws on that, gathering the energy and power within himself. When the incantation is finished, when his eyes and skin are glowing brightly, he focuses on Deucalion, teeth lengthening as he grins.

"You can't do this," Deucalion growls. 

Stiles snorts. There are a whole lot of people in his life who like to tell him what he can and can't do. You'd think they'd all have learned by now.

"I'm gonna have to disagree with you there," Stiles says. 

Stiles plunges his hand into Deucalion's chest, clenching his hand around the alpha's heart. He keeps up the soft litany under his breath, backed by the nemeton and by Peter. At first he doesn't feel anything different and wonders if it's working, if he somehow got the spell wrong, but then it starts. The flow of power isn't gradual; it hits him like a freight train. All the power flowing through Deucalion, the stolen lives of his pack, of many packs, of other alphas, pours in to Stiles.

The weak, almost hollow feeling that's plagued him since being cut off from the Court vanishes, filled by the stolen alpha's power, by the his connections to Peter and the nemeton. He feels powerful again instead of like an impotent changeling child, limited to small glamours and parlor trick magic unless he wants to exhaust himself for days. No, this is power he hasn't felt in years, more than when he was at full strength at Court. 

It feels electric running through him, lighting up his veins like the best high he could experience. His skin is more iridescent than it's ever been and when he opens his eyes, his vision is sharper, more focused. Peter is staring at him in ill-concealed awe. Kali whimpers nearby, but Stiles ignores her. He pours the excess power flowing through him into Peter and the nemeton, thanking them for their help and their sacrifice. Peter gasps, falling to his knees, eyes alpha red. 

It takes a long time for Stiles to finally settle, for the power rippling under his skin to recede enough that he can control it, can breathe deeply. It's still there, waiting to be called up when he needs it, but he has the reins, it doesn't control him. Peter stands when Stiles steps back from Deucalion's body, turning his attention to Kali. There's naked fear on her face and Stiles could let her go, could strip her of her abilities and send her on her way. That's what Scott would do. 

Stiles isn't Scott.

Killing her is easy, a touch to her forehead and a shove of power and she keels over, dead before she hits the floor. Stiles has no redemption for people like her, those who kill the ones under their protection. She's the lowest of the low, and doesn't deserve to live.

There's hunger on Peter's face when he looks at Stiles, and the bond between them, not a pack bond but close, thrums with desire and reverence. It's a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, especially from someone like Peter. 

Stiles stalks forward and yanks Peter to him, kissing him harshly. He's high on the power rush so there's not much finesse, but there is hunger and desperation, which Peter readily returns, threading his fingers through Stiles' hair and moaning into his mouth. Stiles doesn't want to stop, wants to keep his lips on Peter's, but the reality is they're surrounded by dead alphas and they're going to have to deal with that. Stiles regretfully pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against Peter's.

"We should go," Stiles says. 

"Are we doing body disposal?" Peter asks.

Stiles hums, pulling all the way back to look around them. The four alphas are surrounded by blood and mountain ash and Stiles is sure that his dad and the deputies would have no idea what to do with this. He could leave it for the Argents to deal with, would serve them right for being useless so far, but that would clue them in on another supernatural power in the area, and Stiles doesn't want the possibility of them ending up on his doorstep. 

Stiles calls the power crackling under his skin and it responds immediately, welling up inside him. It takes barely a thought for the blood and bodies to vanish, sent to the nemeton deep in the preserve. Peter's eyes widen in surprise and he looks around at the pristine kitchen.

"What exactly are you capable of, sweetheart?" Peter purrs.

It's not the first time he's asked, but it is the first time Stiles has decided to answer.

"Glamour is easy, so is communing with nature, animals, plants, all that. Odmieńce are all different, but my strength has always been in trickery. Moving objects, making others see and hear things, but now..." Stiles flexes his fingers, reveling in the power ready to come to his call. He knows if he thinks of winter, he could call ice and snow. He could call the heat and brightness of summer, the rain of spring. He could call fire. He could suck out life. "Elemental isn't quite right but...it's close, I think."

"You're magnificent," Peter says. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Complete," Stiles says. "Come on. We need to check the nemeton."

Stiles could have magicked them there, but he wants to walk through the trees now that he's stronger. The woods recognize him, buzzing excitedly as he passes. Animals that normally would give a werewolf a wide berth approach them, deer and rabbits and squirrels circling close, some even rubbing against Stiles' legs as he walks. The preserve feels more alive than it ever has.

The nemeton's clearing is unrecognizable. Instead of a stump with a few shoots of new growth, there's a fully grown tree, tall and strong as if it had never been chopped down in the first place. Stiles can feel it nudging at his mind, waves of gratitude and joy seeping through their connection. Stiles smiles and presses his hand flat against the trunk, happy to feel no more pain or poison it'd had when he'd first come here. 

"So the darach is gone, the alpha pack is gone, and the nemeton is restored," Peter says, stepping up and placing a hand on Stiles' lower back. Stiles leans into the contact, humming in agreement. "What now?"

"Anything with a strong magical ability nearby will have felt the nemeton's resurgence," Stiles says. "Nasty things will come for it. And I’ll be here waiting.”

“We’ll be here,” Peter corrects. Stiles looks at him with raised eyebrows, making Peter huff. “You helped me find my niece. You helped me become an alpha again. You’re the only one in this godforsaken town with any sense and loyalty. You’re my pack.”

For all that his face looks calm, there’s tightness around his eyes, like he’s expecting Stiles to argue that. Stiles just hums and relaxes back more against Peter. Pack isn’t a completely foreign concept to his kind. It’s not the same as the bonds held at Court, but it’s similar, and to be frank, he likes Peter. He likes being with Peter, likes the sarcastic back and forth, the late night movie binges and eating takeout together. Being pack with Peter…it isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

“Okay,” Stiles says eventually. “’We’ it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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